“Do you want the sling inside or outside your sweatshirt?”
“Outside.” The weather had decided to kick into gear, and it was fucking cold outside. No way was he heading out there in his condition with an open hoodie.
Kate helped him slide his arm through the sleeve. Pain pinched his shoulder where he’d been shot, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the pain in his side every time he twisted. And it didn’t even compare to what was happening in the center of his chest each time he thought of Simone.
By the time she finished and helped him tug the zipper up the front, he was sweating buckets. “God Almighty, I’m fucking useless.”
“No you’re not. You’re just injured. You’ve gotta give yourself time to heal.” She sat on the bed next to him and reached for his hand. Her fingers closed around his, strong, sure, familiar. “It’s going to be okay. Have a little faith.”
He frowned her direction. “Don’t patronize me.”
“It’s the same thing you told me, and you were right.”
“I was blowing smoke up your ass. You should have been smart enough to see that. Simone obviously was.”
“Mitch—”
“No, you know what?” He let go of her hand, knowing he sounded like the scorned lover and hating himself even more for that. “It’s fine. I’ll get over it. Forget I said anything.”
Kate was silent at his side for a moment, then said, “She’s been here. You’ve just been sleeping a lot.”
Right. Yeah. Sleeping. Not every moment, though. And while he did remember her being here when he’d first come out of surgery, groggy and half out of it from the anesthesia and pain meds, he didn’t remember seeing much of her since. “It’s fine, Kate.”
“She’s also had to deal with Shannon and all the fallout from the press once the story went public. That’s exhausting. Trust me, I know.”
He knew that was true. He’d caught clips of it on the news. Simone had turned the file over to the Feds, who were running a full-scale investigation on Senator Dobbs, Chris Murdoch, and PreCorp, which included exhuming Simone’s late husband’s body and testing it for various poisons. And though no link to the Cyphers had been made by the big news outlets yet—the running story was simply a senator in bed with big oil, and his accountant who’d turned on him—conspiracy theorist websites were bubbling over with speculation about the secret society and the organization’s future.
“Ryan said you got a visit from Paul Messing yesterday,” she said quietly.
Mitch focused on a square tile on the floor and nodded. “He’s the new acting chairman of Cypher and Dagger. He was a few years ahead of me in school. I met him a couple of times at various functions but don’t know him well.”
“What did he say?”
“He apologized for everything that’s happened, if you can believe that. Said Murdoch was acting on his own and that the society didn’t know anything about Holdt or Dobbs or Steve’s death. He also said the society isn’t standing behind either of them.”
“Isolating themselves from the drama, like Ryan said they would.”
“Yeah.” Too little too late, in Mitch’s opinion, but…whatever.
“You know why they’re doing that, right?” Kate asked.
“Because they’re not stupid.”
“Because Simone held back part of the evidence in Steve’s box.”
Mitch looked her way. “What are you talking about?”
“There was more in there besides Steve’s medical files. He was the Cypher’s treasurer for several years. All that evidence the Feds thought he had linking the organization to money laundering, racketeering, and bribery? He really had it. On a zip drive in the bottom of the box. He just never let it go public for fear of retaliation against Simone and Shannon. Simone, Ryan, and Ryan’s team of lawyers met with Messing two days ago and laid it all on the line. So long as the organization backs off and leaves all of us alone, you especially, she won’t release what Steve collected. But if anything happens to you—to any of us—it’ll go public with one click. Ryan said she was a force to be reckoned with in the meeting. Even his high-paid team of legal whiz kids was impressed.”
Awe rippled through Mitch. She was always a force to be reckoned with in a legal setting. Negotiations were her strong suit, and in a business environment… Yeah, he just bet she was a shark waiting to strike.
He couldn’t be mad at her for not being here. Not when she was dealing with all that. And not when he now knew she was the reason Messing had given him the option of staying in the society or leaving for good, something he’d wanted for years.
God, he loved that woman. Ached for her. Wished like hell she was here right now. And didn’t want to think too much about what it meant that she wasn’t.
“Speaking of your obnoxious husband,” he said, wanting—needing—to change the subject. “Where is he?”
“Talking to your doctors too. You scared him, Mitch. You scared all of us.”
He nodded, not wanting to think about that. Because if he had it to do all over again, he’d put his life on the line for Simone’s in the exact same way.
The door to his room pushed open, and Ryan poked his head around the curtain. “You decent?”
Mitch frowned. “As decent as I’m going to get.”
“Cool,” Ryan said, “because I got all your discharge papers. You’re set to go.”
“Thank God,” Mitch muttered.
Kate pushed to her feet, then moved around the bed to grab Mitch’s bag.
Ryan backed into the room, dragging a wheelchair with him. Mitch’s frown turned to a scowl. “I’m not using that.”
“Yes, you are,” the nurse said behind Ryan. “Hospital policy. If you want to leave, this is your flying carpet.”
Ryan grinned. “She said I could push, if that makes you feel any better.”
Joy. Bracing his hands against the mattress, Mitch grunted and finally balanced his weight on his feet. But it took several tries, and he knew he looked like a wimp. “You’ll probably run me into a wall and enjoy it.”
Ryan chuckled and helped him into the chair. While the nurse fixed the footrests for him, Ryan leaned down and muttered, “I’m hurt. I really am. Especially after that kiss we shared.”
Kate barked out a laugh, then covered her mouth with her hand.
Mitch’s face twisted in disgust. “That wasn’t a kiss, dipshit, it was CPR, which, thankfully, I don’t remember. And I’ll be washing my mouth out with Listerine for the next year, thanks to you.”
Ryan’s laugh deepened, and he steered the wheelchair toward the door. “You liked it. You were begging for more. I gotta say, though, I don’t know why the girls are always falling over you. Your sister kisses way better than you do.”
“Ryan,” Kate warned.
“What?” he said, feigning shock. “It’s true. Your kisses are hot, babe. His? Not so much.”
Resting his elbow on the armrest, Mitch rubbed his suddenly aching temples. “I’m gonna be sick. I really am.”
“Well, that’s because you’re a girly man who’s always getting hurt,” Ryan jabbed. “Cheer up, though. I’m sure we can find some pathetic woman to play nursemaid to you. There are still a few out there who like you.”
Mitch wasn’t so sure. And just any woman wasn’t going to do it for him. Not anymore. The only one he wanted obviously no longer wanted him back.
Mitch closed his eyes on the drive to Kate and Ryan’s house. A tiny part of him had held out hope Simone would show up as he was leaving, take him to her house, and nurse him back to health like she’d done after he’d suffered that head injury six months ago. But now that he was settled into the front seat of Ryan’s Mercedes, his arm resting in the sling at his chest, his head kicked back against the headrest, and his eyes closed, he knew he had to buck up to the fact that little fantasy had crashed and burned, big-time.